


Your Red Lips Are Enough

by orphan_account



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Fluff and Angst, Grim Reapers, Inspired by Goblin (K-drama), M/M, Mutual Pining, Non-Linear Narrative, Reincarnation, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2018-12-24 08:10:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12008610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Kids these days are truly a pain, he thinks, especially as he gazes at the reddened face of his ‘bride’, most likely due to the sickeningly cold breeze that’s sweeping over them at the moment.The boy’s eyes are red as well, teary from the wind, but he still manages to look at Jeno like he’s some sort of stranger.“What?" He asks. "Are you gonna pull the sword out already?”((Goblin AU))





	1. Chapter 1

There’s snow falling. 

It isn’t something grand, nor is it convenient, not when you’re standing a foot deep in muddy ice that’s currently seeping into your expensive slacks. Oh, and the new shoes, they’re destroyed at this point. That’s another thing he has to remember to buy. Winter boots. 

Just how long has he lived in Seoul? He should know better. Even the boy standing before him is wearing a parka, shoes suitable for the freezing weather and snow, along with that homemade scarf that’s hiding red, bitten lips that’ll never stop talking. 

He’s from China, China has snow, of course it does. Jeno is from South Korea, South Korea has snow, of course it does. Jeno is just an ancient idiot that doesn’t get with the times at all. For example, that one occurrence when Jaemin made fun of him for putting on his coat to go to the App store. 

That was literally not Jeno’s fault. Just how was he supposed to know that it was a virtual store for his iPhone? Kids these days are truly a pain, he thinks, especially as he gazes at the reddened face of his ‘bride’, most likely due to the sickeningly cold breeze that’s sweeping over them at the moment. 

The boy’s eyes are red as well, teary from the wind, but he still manages to look at Jeno like he’s some sort of alien that’s just sprung up right in front of him. They’ve known each other for four months now? As long as the holiday season, he believes. 

And yet Renjun doesn’t admit to being his bride unless Jeno offers him food, or merchandise that consists mainly of his beloved character named ‘Moomin’. It isn’t fair, but it’s also not fair that he has to wait this long for the guy to finally pull this dreaded sword out of his chest already. 

In front of him, or below, (he’s taller, and it doesn’t help that his bride is hunched over because of the cold), Jeno observes him carefully as he runs a hand through locks of brown hair that are nearly the color red. Everything about this boy is red. He’s like fire. 

“What? You’re gonna pull the sword out already? Like this?” Jeno lifts his hands up, pointing in either direction of the place they’re standing in. It’s an empty parking lot, quiet, with no one around. He guesses it’s a part of the high school that Renjun attends. He knows the boy is a dedicated student, but do kids really stay this late at school to study? 

Renjun pouts. Jeno can tell he’s pouting, even when his mouth is concealed behind that red scarf. “I didn’t waste my last match to call you here and kill you.” 

Jeno laughs at the mention of a match. The kid really went and bought a packet of those. He’s been summoned more than a handful of times in the month, especially since it’s ‘finals’ season, as Renjun calls it. Jeno has no idea what that means. 

He shrugs. “Thought you were getting tired of me,” Jeno watches as Renjun scowls at him, stuffing his hands into his very cheap, very big parka. “I would be tired of me too.” 

“I’m not tired of you.” His bride mumbles, kicking the snowy dirt floor. “I just wanted you to pick me up. It’s fucking cold out here, and the subway’s already closed.” 

Jeno pretends to not enjoy this. He really does find it amusing when Renjun asks for help. The boy isn’t very keen on doing that, not even when Jeno offers it. 

“But if you’re going to be annoying about it, then I’ll just call Donghyuck to pick me up—“ Renjun stops himself when he sees the small glare directed at him. Jeno is not pleased. 

He sighs. “I’m your betrothed beloved. Can’t I escort you home like a true gentleman, my bride?” He let’s the last word roll on his tongue, a little too dramatically for Renjun’s taste. 

And just as he suspected, the boy starts walking in the opposite direction, shouldering his backpack. 

Jeno stops him with a flick of his hand, instantly freezing him in place. “Wait.” 

“I’m tired.” Renjun replies, not turning to see him. “Can’t you just take me home?” 

For a minute, there’s silence. Jeno keeps his focus on him. 

He’s so mature, much more mature than Jeno is, (and to be honest, Jeno is more than a few thousand years old). Renjun certainly is older than him in some parallel universe, or in another life. 

Jeno finally gives in, smiling to himself even though his bride can’t see it. “Alright, let’s go home then.” 

Renjun lifts his gaze up to him, but not before catching a small look at the snow departing from the grey clouds above. Behind the boy, Jeno can see the Seoul skyline, lighting up the scenery. It makes his bride glow, but Jeno doesn’t comment or say anything like that aloud. 

Instead, he focuses on taking them home. He can’t have his future savior freezing up before the job is done, correct? 

The action is as simple as snapping your fingers, or even blowing out a match— teleporting. 

What isn’t easy is having a bride such as this.

# …

There’s this thing about being more than a couple centuries old. It’s something he wishes didn’t come with this package, but at times he can handle it gracefully. In other times though, life in a household like this can be ultimate hell. 

Sometimes he wonders if he’s already in hell. It doesn’t help that there’s a literal grim reaper living with him too. It really is hell, then. 

And this reaper isn’t what you would call normal. He’s just awkward, very awkward. It can be cute, but it’s also strange because seriously, how awkward can a person be? 

Mark is by far a unique thing. Jeno can’t deny that. But at the same time he wishes that Jaemin didn’t let this grim reaper into the house. It’s all about the money, apparently. Curse that Jaemin. 

The reaper just appeared on their doorstep one day. And if Jeno knew what he as getting into, he would’ve sent the guy back to where he came from (seriously where does one go to become a grim reaper?). 

Mark scares the shit out of him sometimes too. Unintentionally, that is. He can appear out of nowhere, literally. The man’s got a hat that makes him invisible. That’s right, he can turn invisible. Also, he’s got a cool black coat, and Jeno is kind of jealous that he doesn’t have one that’s just as cool. 

So, yeah living with an awkward, socially inept grim reaper isn’t what you would call a walk in the park, but at least it’s not Satan himself. Jeno has been and done that already. 

But he guesses he can put up with it. Even when the certain problem is a lovesick mess that just won’t admit to finding someone else attractive. It isn’t that hard. Though Jeno isn’t any better. 

The man in mind is sitting at the dining area, another box of familiar fried chicken placed perfectly in the center of the table. Jeno figures that this is the tenth time Mark has had chicken in the past month. It’s painfully obvious as to why, but Jeno has the heart not to tease him about it. 

“Chicken? Again?” Jeno grins at the man, stealing a wing from the warm box and taking a bite. 

Scratch that. Jeno loves to tease Mark about the little crush he’s developed on the chicken restaurant owner. Jeno can’t blame the guy though. 

Mark scratches the back of his head, frustration evident on his face. “I just . . . wanted chicken.” His voice becomes smaller as he talks, which could also mean that he’s flustered. 

Jeno takes a seat across from him, at the far end of the table. There are a few business cards laying around, most likely extra things included in the abundant amount of coupons and receipts from Mark’s many visits to the restaurant. 

A name sticks out at Jeno, one that Renjun has mentioned before on many occasions. Is it fate? Jeno hopes it isn’t. Hopefully, it’s just all a coincidence. 

“Donghyuck?” Jeno takes a card in between his fingers and raises it to the reaper, cocking a brow at the man. “That’s the owner, right?” 

Mark lays a hand on the table gently, but the action ultimately makes Jeno shiver. The card between his fingers is thrust forward, as if a great force had slapped at his hand. Mark looks up, annoyance in his expression. 

“Don’t even mention him,” The grim reaper takes a big bite out of a chicken leg, turning away from Jeno’s smiling, knowing face. His tone of voice gives off a threatening vibe, one that Jeno knows too well. 

He gives up, for the meantime. 

The two then sit there, quietly eating. It’s not uncomfortable. In fact, they both prefer it. They can get along most times, because they’re not technically in situations where they can get out and be normal. So basically, they’re stuck with each other, and of course their terrible love lives are not excluded in this. Living together really has separated them from having any personal secrets from one another. They can read each other like a book. 

Mark doesn’t look at Jeno, not even when Jeno asks for the salt that’s at the other end. But neither does Jeno, not even when Mark asks for the pepper that’s on his end of the table. 

He remembers the first dinner they had, and how they nearly wrecked the place, giving Jaemin a heart attack when he first walked into the war scene. A good scolding occurred afterwards, and a big check too. Mark claims that he won, but Jeno knows his own power. No way could a mere grim reaper threaten this goblin’s eternal life with a kitchen fork. Jaemin though . . . is still human and very delicate, in comparison to what Mark and Jeno are. Hopefully another outburst like that won’t happen again, for the sake of keeping their human acquaintances alive. 

Ah, good times. 

Jeno gazes at the business card once more, remembering that his bride is most likely at work. It’s almost ten in the evening, so his shift is probably ending. That can only mean one thing. 

His eyes travel to the flickering candles in the table centerpiece. Christmas is just around the corner, so the wax from the decorations is red. 

He hides his smile, and tries not to remember the vibrant color that recalls memories of his fated soul mate, because truthfully, he’s starting to anticipate the times when his ‘bride’ calls for him. 

Jeno is getting too used to this routine. And he sort of likes it.

# …

The front of the store reveals an empty street adorned in snow. Floor to ceiling windows are the only way to fully see what time it really is in the outside world, and as for the rest of the chicken restaurant interior, everything simply matches what a generic fast food place resembles. 

It’s more of a home than anything else, because real home consists of lonely evenings with tea and whatever drama happens to be on television. At this age, Donghyuck expects he’ll just continue on this path, no matter how depressing it may sound. 

In front of him he witnesses his newest employee sweeping the floor for the second time that day. Judging by the growing silence from the tall and rather skinny boy that never shuts up, Donghyuck knows this sudden change in mood is due to something a little more interesting than just plain stress from exams and finals. It must be love. 

He sighs. He usually does that, with a bottle of whatever’s in the fridge, and chips of course. “If you sweep the floor one time, I’m gonna see my reflection in it.” 

Renjun jumps at his sudden thought. There’s a flicker of something that crosses his face for a moment, but it vanishes as soon he tries to see what it is. 

Kids in high school are all the same, he thinks. 

“Just saying. More work for you isn’t necessary.” Donghyuck cranes his neck to view the other side of the empty restaurant. Only one customer has been stopping by every now and then, but other than that, no one has come. Is he cursed? “Especially since we’re packed everyday.” He says this sarcastically, but it does nothing to make the other smile. 

Renjun instead keeps his gaze down, thinking. “Can I stay the night?” 

“What? So you can avoid whatever you’re thinking about?” He replies. 

The other turns a bit red in anger, but he never truly shows it. He keeps things bottled in, much like Donghyuck. It’s annoying. 

The boy unties his apron slowly, folding it and then placing it on the table gingerly. He does his duties perfectly— a little too perfectly. But Donghyuck can’t complain, not when he genuinely cares about the kid. 

He speaks up, finally, “That guy you were with the other day . . .” 

Renjun suddenly looks to him, eyes wide. “What about him?” 

Donghyuck hides his laughter beautifully. So it is something about love. “He’s not . . . he’s not forcing you to do anything, right?” 

His employee waves his hands in front of him, frantically shaking his head from side to side. “No! No way. Not him. He would never—“ 

“Okay, okay, I get it.” Donghyuck shushes him. “I was just curious.” He takes a last swig from his drink, gazing to the outside, where, the sixteenth stranger walks past his restaurant in a rush. It’s time to go home. 

Here’s the thing though, Donghyuck doesn’t know if the kid has a real place to go to at the end of the day. He doesn’t want to pry, but he admits that he’s grown to actually care for this poor guy. 

Yes he’ll let him stay over night in the restaurant or even in his own home, but he of all people knows how bad it is to avoid people. Renjun is still young, so doesn’t that at least give him a free pass on things like this? 

Donghyuck doesn’t want to spoil him, but when he’s acting this way, he can’t help but feel a little distressed for the boy who’s still growing up. He wonders how Renjun even knows another man like that one tall guy he saw the other day. Much older, and the stranger wasn't so bad looking, but it’s still weird to see a high school student hanging around someone like that. Is he a teacher? 

No, he thinks, teachers can’t afford what that man was wearing. 

He takes another look at his employee, who is gathering his things from the lockers located next to the broom closet. There’s a familiar expression that Donghyuck has seen in himself many, many times. It’s that of melancholy, and uncertainty. 

There’s no point in teasing it out of him though. With time, Renjun will know what to do. That’s basically what it’s like to grow up, no matter how painful it’ll be. 

Renjun can do it. He’s tough, much like Donghyuck. Though at least Renjun has the effort to actually go and talk to his significant other. All Donghyuck has done is tease and converse with a man he doesn’t even know. 

And he’s always wearing that damn black hat, even at night. Does he have anything with color? All he’s seen this guy wear is black. And is ‘Mark’ even his real name? He doubts it is. The man doesn’t have a business card, so Donghyuck will probably never be sure. 

But it’s terrible because Donghyuck knows he won’t stop. Rejoices in the way that he can make a guy like Mark flustered, to the point where the other can’t find anything to say. It’s enjoyable, it’s unique, and it’s also endearing. He can’t stop, and it’s become a habit. 

Maybe he should refrain from seeing the man anymore, but at the same time he can’t help it when the guy appears out of nowhere like a ghost. It gives him the creeps, but at least he gets to see him from time to time. It makes his life interesting. 

Hopefully nothing will come of it, even though Donghyuck would like the awkwardness to finally disappear. He doesn’t think that will happen though, not when Mark is far from being normal. Donghyuck likes that, admires that. 

Renjun behind him starts turning off the lights slowly, dimming them enough so that Donghyuck can get up to go home. 

For a second, he realizes that all he’s been doing is sitting and thinking about the mysterious Mark, as well as Renjun’s issues and his own. It’s like meditation, but it’s also boring as hell. 

He hopes, for what must be the hundredth time, that he’ll get to see some excitement soon. He hopes that he’ll enjoy the winter with someone. 

He prays that he’ll get to see Mark again before the holiday season ends.

# …

When weeks pass by, and Christmas comes around, Jeno is thankful that he’s not alone this time. 

He’s got more than a few people in his cellphone contacts, (he has no idea how that happened), and now his bride has gone and gotten another job, so that means even more people he has to encounter. This is much more than he’s ever had, ever. Not even when he was truly alive did he have many to call his own friends. It’s nerve-wracking, but he’s finding it entertaining.

And what’s good about his beloved is that even though he is sociable, Renjun is still human. Humans get tired, Renjun gets tired, despite how fierce he appears in his tiring schedule of work, school, work, and more school. Jeno doesn’t know how the boy manages so much. And to top it all off, his bride also has Jeno to worry about as well. 

Jeno admires the work ethic of those around him. But he doubts those certain people know how hard they work. All he can simply do is stand and watch, and admire, and hope that one day he’ll live a life where he can be just as dedicated. 

For now, laziness is something that he’ll embrace. 

The fire before them is too good to pass up anyway. Plus there’s the fact that Mark is out for the rest of the night, busying himself with work and whatnot because even in the holiday season, there is death. What he doesn’t understand is why Renjun is sitting on the floor, couch blankets strewn all over the place, with a book in between his sweater paw hands. 

It’s the holiday season. Do kids really have homework when they’re supposed to be enjoying Christmas with friends and family? Are teachers nowadays still as savage as they were back then? 

Jeno is glad he’s never had to deal with the education system. Seeing Renjun in pain from a single day at school doesn’t convince him that it’s great, so he chooses to stay far from the grounds, even when picking up his bride at the end of the day. There’s also the fact that school is another thing that keeps Renjun from spending time with Jeno. That, he believes, is what ticks him off the most when it comes to school. 

He clears his throat, “You’re ignoring me, again.” Jeno crosses his arms, making himself appear mad even when he isn’t angry. “But this time it isn’t for Moomin. It’s for a book.” When Renjun doesn’t reply, he continues, “I can’t believe this.” 

His bride doesn’t need to turn around for Jeno to know that he’s rolling his eyes at him. 

But it is Christmas. Aren’t loved ones supposed to talk to one another in this time? He’s old, but he’s not so old that he’s clueless about these things (probably). 

Renjun rises from his spot, closing the book with a snap. The blankets covering his shoulders slip off as he points a finger at Jeno. “Move.” 

“What?” Jeno tilts his head. He knows he’s going to strike a nerve in the boy. 

“Move.” Renjun repeats again, but this time he walks over to where Jeno’s sitting, and pushes him gently out of the way. 

Jeno complies, but isn’t surprised when he sees that his bride isn’t too happy. 

“I know I’m not Moomin, but you can still lean on me.” Jeno tries to ease the tension with anything, knowing full well that Renjun doesn’t stay mad for long. “I won’t bite.” 

Renjun smiles at that, and it makes Jeno feel more at ease. “It’s just cold.” His bride says, as he brings the covers to his chin. 

“Yeah, I know.” Jeno allows the silence to wash over them. 

The boy isn’t leaning on him, but he’s near enough that Jeno can feel the brush of his shoulder at times. It’s best that they keep they’re distance anyway. The age difference doesn’t help too. 

Jeno places his head back on the headrest of the couch, watching the flames eat up the blackened logs of the fire pit. He steals a glance at Renjun, eyeing the way the boy absorbs the heat, the red and orange hues that erupt from the consuming flames. 

And his bride keeps quiet, eyes lilting from time to time as if he’s about to fall asleep. He hopes he doesn’t, but at times he wishes to witness an expression on his bride that isn’t worry or fear. The boy’s been through enough. 

Jeno’s never asked personal questions, but he knows enough to never openly ask. He’s aware that Renjun’s family is very far, and that Renjun misses them terribly. But Jeno doesn’t dare to cross into personal territory, not when his bride hasn’t opened up fully yet. They’ll get there, eventually. 

He places his chin on a pillow nearby, trying to keep his eyes open so that he can simply look on. Jeno doesn’t sleep much, but the situation at hand is making him feel . . . soft? 

Renjun steals a glance at him from the corner of his eyes, but Jeno can’t read his emotions. He never can. “Is there something on my face?” 

Jeno can’t help the small smirk that sneaks it’s way to his mouth. “I’m just thinking about fate.” 

His bride scoffs at him, raising the covers so that his lips are concealed again, much like the red scarf does. “Why?” 

“It’s just . . .” Jeno lifts himself up slightly, enough to look down at the boy. “I can’t believe I haven’t seen you before— in another life, I mean.” 

Renjun stares at him intently. “I’ve never had a life before this one.” 

“How do you know?” Jeno doesn’t mean to pry, but Renjun had said it so determinedly, he can’t help but question the guy further. 

He laughs, which lights up the room immediately, as if Jeno had unintentionally lowered the holiday spirit. “Mark told me.” 

Jeno’s now somewhat hurt. “Oh. So Mark told you—“ 

Renjun cuts him off. “Yes. But you’re not allowed to ask anymore questions.” He says this with finality, and Jeno can do nothing but obey. 

They fall into quietness again, watching the fire again, but this time they’re more aware that they can let go. Because even though they are destined, they’re still unable to properly hold a conversation without turning every one into a fight. 

But he doesn’t mind it. Talking with Renjun is interesting. Jeno gets to have a glimpse into a life he doesn’t know. He also has the opportunity to speak to a soul that he hopes to save one day. 

Jeno tears his eyes away from him to watch the window instead. It’s blue outside, since it is early in the evening. There’s falling snow, and it’s collecting on the plants in the garden. He would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t miss the summer. He wants to see how Renjun is in that season. 

Is he more carefree? Less cold? Jeno finds it hard to watch his bride shivering everyday, whether it’s from the December snowfall, or from the September rains. But still, he knows that it will most likely not happen. Jeno may never witness Renjun in the summer, or even in the spring when his birthday comes around. 

That hurts, a little. 

“I’m sorry.” Renjun disrupts his train of thought suddenly. His hands are gripping the blanket. “I’m tired. Finals and all that.” 

He nods, once again inching close enough to catch the familiar scent of the boy next to him. Mint and something else, something like bubblegum. “I know,” He says, because he does know. The stress is visible at times. “I know.” 

Renjun leans his head on Jeno’s shoulder. It surprises him, but he doesn’t show it. Rather, he stays still, hoping that the other doesn’t change his mind. 

He’s calm, and Renjun also feels calm too, judging from the soft flutter of the pulse on his neck. Jeno can feel it, can read every beat as his soul mate breathes in and out, softly. 

After a moment’s silence, his bride replies with a small, “Thank you.” Before fading into thought once more. 

Jeno thrives in this. He never wanted to admit it, but this human is growing on him. This weird, but wonderful human has somehow managed to find his way inside. Jeno doesn’t know how he managed that, so it’s become something special to him as the weeks have gone by. 

The curse will be lifted eventually though, and Jeno is sure that he won’t be here to see if Renjun will really miss him. Jeno knows that the boy will be perfectly okay on his own, and that lifts a small weight from his shoulders. 

He also knows that Donghyuck will take good care of the boy. Mark has hinted that he likes him, so Jeno has another trustworthy guardian to put on the list. Jaemin as well, too.

And he doesn’t know if it’s the holiday season making him think these things, or if it’s just because Renjun is finally leaning on him— but Jeno can’t stop from letting his mind wander. 

These days are precious to him, valuable even, and so he unabashedly scolds himself for dwelling on such human characteristics. Love is one, passion is another, and most importantly, joy is one. He cringes just thinking about how he feels, but he can’t help it. He’s almost human, anyway. 

So when his bride yawns into his shoulder, closing his eyes finally, face embracing the warm licks of the flames before them, Jeno is happy. It’s a strange kind of happy, but it’s one that he will never give up. 

And there’s red too, the fated color that ties he and his soul mate like a string. Jeno remembers the first time he witnessed the color on the boy when it was wrapped around his neck, dusting the high bones of his cheeks and ears, and above the bridge and tip of his nose in the midst of the chilly sea air. 

Jeno handed him those flowers, thinking to himself, _what a wonderful color_ , and, _it suits him so well_ , and also, that this is what he’s needed, for a very, very long time. This is what he’s wanted— 

This is enough.


	2. Chapter 2

There’s no time for romance. 

At least, that’s what he thinks. The world is large, there are many people in it, alive and dead, he reminds himself— but romance is not something he’d like to do with humans, and much less with people in his field of work, and much, much less with people who he can tolerate. 

Because he’s not a difficult person, of course he’s not. Mark is simply a grim reaper waiting for the next red card to lead him to the next soul that’s ready to go upstairs. He doesn’t need immortal housemates to drive him up the wall with questions of dating. Even if you are dating someone, it doesn’t necessarily mean that Mark has to find that special someone as well. How hard is it to accept that? 

Now he’s got this bride pestering him too. What with the fact that this weak human is now living with them because apparently he’s the fated one for his annoying roommate, Mark has it bad. How is he supposed to survive in a household of lovebirds? Even when they argue, it’s a painstaking time because that’s what couples _do._

It’s quite difficult to fit any sort of normalcy in his life already, and now he’s got to deal with soul partners. 

He rolls his eyes at the idea. 

What is a soul partner anyway? Sure many have abandoned their posts as reapers to run off with humans, but that idea never wavered him and nor has he ever considered doing such a risky thing. 

Humans are not to be messed with. That was his motto for the longest time. But when you have a lonely god who’s willing to spare a few lives here and there, you’re head is bound to become muddled with inconceivable ideas. Just living with the man has already frustrated him to the point where he’s nearly set the abode on fire. 

Mark’s temper isn’t bad. But due to extreme circumstances, he’s reached his limit. He hopes his beloved human friends survive this inner turmoil. For there’s nothing that seems to calm him down besides his job. And to be honest, that’s pretty lame, even for Mark. 

Being a grim reaper isn’t so bad though, not when you can completely disassociate yourself from everyone around you. You don’t have to force yourself to be the best soul collector, and there’s also the fact that you get to wear cool coats and be invisible. That, he believes, is the best part of the job. He loves cool coats. It makes him look cool. 

But then there’s the issue of feeling emotion. 

Yes there are times when it’s hard doing what he does. It’s painful when he thinks about it for a long time. Taking something so precious away from a body that’s worked tirelessly day to day. 

Even an immortal god such as Jeno can’t understand what it is to deal with something like that. No one can, on exception to others in his occupation. 

Though that makes him wonder about his capacity for emotion, especially when he doesn’t find that he cries under such pressured situations. Does Mark feel sadness anymore? Does he feel empathy? Sorrow? 

Love? 

He shakes his head at the idea. Feelings to him are nothing but soft impressions that waver him from time to time, like fingers against snow, or bells that chime in the distance if he cares to hear them. 

So, maybe not— anymore, but that’s okay, because he doesn’t need them. They would certainly be nuisances when it comes to his job, and not to mention the fact that it would make him appear very unprofessional in the face of his underlings. 

Because Mark is well known, a great superior in his current position, and of course he’s very capable of balancing many, many responsibilities, to the point where he finds himself daydreaming of a possible past life where he must’ve been some sort of leader. 

But he laughs at the idea. A leader? C’mon. Even he admits to being very stiff. Though he supposes it would be tremendously fun. 

Back to the train of thought . . . 

He’s thinking these things, correct? Why? He’s usually professional, a terrific workaholic. So where is this distracted feeling coming from? 

A nudge on the shoulder awakes him from his thoughts. At the moment, he’s currently under the shade of a bus stop, hands in his pockets, biting his lip from the frost that’s overcoming him and his partner in waves. 

In short, it’s cold, it’s the beginning of winter, and they shouldn’t be feeling this freezing. Grim reapers shouldn’t feel anything in general. That’s the one thing he dislikes about his job. 

“Hyung, you okay?” The young and fresh grim reaper is looking at him with wide eyes, eyes that remind Mark of his first days. How curious he was of everything in those times. He wishes he could go back. 

Mark exhales, releasing a large puff of white smoke. He needs a warm drink, something like coffee to shock his nerves from this weird feeling in his gut. It’s a thing that’s nagging him, almost as if it were telling him to watch his back, be careful, and especially, _be ready_. 

He waves a hand in the air to disperse the tenseness he’s unwillingly created, to at least soothe his young partner’s concerned look. “I’m fine.” He repeats a mantra of, _be professional_ , and prays that he expresses it well. “It’s cold.” 

His partner rubs his hands together in response and nods. “It is cold, hyung.” 

Mark is happy to know that he’s woken up, for the meantime. The young man next to him— was his name Jisung? He believes so. Seems to have forgotten about Mark as well, and is shaking. Mark hopes it’s because of the cold, and not because of jitters. He knows that all too well. Mark wasn’t always the best grim reaper in the industry, after all. 

He feels the red cards in his coat pocket, remembering the task at hand. They’ve got a job to do, and they should probably do it before the snowfall claims them. He’s acquired three cards, souls all located in the south side of Seoul. It won’t be an easy night, he believes. But what can he do? 

At least he doesn’t have to worry about something as miniscule as _love_.

# …

Mark’s never had to care about having a cellphone. In his line of work, it isn’t necessarily an important thing to have. Or, that’s what he’s thought for the longest time. He’s never seen a reaper with one, not even some of the younger ones. So it’s not very important, right? 

His landlord has mentioned it before, once when they sat down at dinner. The idea was discussed, but even the great and lonely god objected to the idea, claiming that he knew all about cellphones and technology and that he didn’t need such things, not in this day and age. 

And so the idea was brushed off. Mark has never considered getting one, and he doesn’t want to get one, but at the same time his affairs seem to have crossed over into this territory. For once, he wonders on the idea of pretending to be a normal, regular human, even though it will most likely fail. 

What sparked this idea? — you might ask. Well, it started when Mark was questioning his views on _emotions_. 

Maybe that wasn’t a good idea, he now realizes. Maybe it’s age, maybe it’s because it’s time for him to move onto the next cycle, or maybe it’s due to the fact that he’s tired of performing the same actions everyday. 

Excitement is lacking in his work. That is the solid truth. When you become a pro, you ultimately come across this block in the road. Mark, he’s tried to avoid it for the longest possible time. But now— now it has come to completely wreck him. 

And at the worst possible time too. 

He’s on break. His shifts have varied since the coming of the holiday season. Also, it’s cold, and so transportation has been hectic due to the winter frost and snow. It is basically a cesspool, a time full of complicated accidents just waiting to happen. Mark hates this time of year the most. 

Christmas is romantic, he admits, but it may also be the saddest time of the year for others who just don’t _know_. 

It depresses him even more when his desk is loaded with more cards, more cards than what he’s received in the summer and spring combined. It must be difficult for the newbies, and of course for Mark, who, is getting tired from repeating the yearly routine all over again. 

Maybe he deserves a vacation? Because these daily coffee breaks aren’t cutting it for him. Or maybe he needs to find a hobby? That’s it. That’s exactly what he needs. 

He also glowers on the fact that his beloved housemate Jeno would scold him on the idea of a simple hobby. How boring could Mark be? Find a person, a friend, maybe even a significant other of his own, Jeno would most likely say. 

As if Mark would ever do that. 

No way. 

Not even when he rushes out of the now crowded coffee shop and onto the familiar outside he knows all too well. It’s bright, despite the oncoming winter hours. It is nice, glowing, and _sunny_. 

He may not look it, but Mark loves the sun. Loves the way the rays hit him in the summer. It’s the one thing about his immortality that he likes. 

And he doesn’t believe anything can compare, not when it’s physically impossible for a mere human being to compete with the sun— but for once, he may be wrong. Just this once, in his span of lives and reincarnations and occupations, Mark may be wrong. 

Because humans are funny things, he thinks. They change as they grow, they become the impossible, and somehow by doing that, they affect those around them, no matter how far or close, a human is capable of touching the hearts of those they don’t even know. That is a miracle. 

So it comes as a shock when he steps onto the bridge, a familiar bridge he’s walked on many times, and he freezes in place. Mark doesn’t stop moving, has never stopped moving, but that gut feeling he’s been experiencing ultimately locks him in place. 

There’s the sensation creeping from his stomach, and it’s gliding along his neck, creating a cold sweat that makes him feel uncomfortable and unsure all at the same time. It’s exciting, he admits, and it’s also bewitching. 

A pair of eyes is watching him, until he notices that a vendor is looking his way. A curious look crosses the both of them, until he laughs it off awkwardly. 

Maybe he was just feeling a bit uneasy due to the holiday season stress. 

He clears his throat, “How much for the ring?” 

There’s this ring on the table amidst an array of cheaper rings. The table is filled with goodies, artifacts that appear to have come from the bottom of jewelry boxes and ocean floors, items left behind, items unwanted or forgotten, abandoned. And it makes Mark feel sentimental enough to take at least one home. 

And all goes well, for the moment, that is. He doesn’t want anything else, doesn’t need anything else from the cheap vendor, but is offended when someone to his right swipes the ring from before his eyes. It was obvious that he was reaching out for it, dammit. 

“Hey, nice ring.” There’s a young man observing the ring he’s picked up. He’s holding it up to the sunlight, admiring the way the green glint is glowing in the sunny rays. It is a beautiful ring, Mark thinks—

Mark thinks, but he doesn’t say. His mouth is opening and closing like a fish out of water in the presence of the intruder who has destroyed his normal afternoon. The intruder that has demolished his train of regular thoughts by stealing away the one thing that Mark has found an interest in, in a long time. 

Wait, why does he want a cheap ring again? 

He blinks confusedly at the stranger, noticing the way his eyes are turning teary. Why are they irritated? Is it from the cold breeze?

“Wow, dude, you want the ring that badly?” The young man scoffs at him. An unbelieving expression crosses his face in an instant as he observes Mark from head to toe, judging him clearly. “Just— just don’t cry, okay? Sheesh.” 

Mark shakes his head fiercely, “No. No I’m not crying.” 

“Yes.” The stranger peers into Mark’s face, invading his territory. “Yes you are.” 

He’s shocked, enough to take a step back, holding his palms to his eyes with soft pressure to stop his sudden onset of tears. “Ah, what the—“ 

“You could’ve just said something.” The man says. There’s a smirk playing on his lips. And Mark has no idea why the stranger would laugh at a crying man. How cruel. 

Mark also doesn’t stop. He’s filled with a new feeling, a thing that makes his skin burst into goose bumps. It takes all his willpower not to leave the place in a rush. It’s as if there is something holding him there. 

Fate? 

He holds his chest once he’s sure the tears have stopped. “I’m sorry.” He observes the surrounding area, getting a glimpse as to where he is. Everything is still normal, regular. 

Is that okay though? Isn’t ‘normal’ the thing he wants to escape? But that can’t be what made him cry. Just what is wrong with him? The one possible answer could possibly be—

“Why are you apologizing?” The young man responds, laughing now, obviously amused by Mark’s unusual actions. “You’re so weird.” 

“Excuse me?” Mark has his defensive tone now. It’s scratchy, since he was crying moments earlier, but it’s still there. He’s disappointed when it only seems to further amuse the other. “You took the ring first. It was obviously mine.” 

“Well did you pay for it?” He responds cheekily, twirling the accessory from finger to finger. 

Mark glares, “You stole it. How was I supposed to pay for it?” 

“How about you give me your number, and then I give it back to you, and then you can pay for it, and then you can give it to me?” The man raises a brow at him. 

He doesn’t mean to stutter. “Why would I do that?” 

“It’d be like giving your friend a present.” He replies. “That’s what friends do.”

“We aren’t friends.” 

“Okay then,” The young man raises a hand to Mark, making him jump in surprise. “My name’s Donghyuck.” He runs fingers through hair that’s light, auburn, flaming but still brown. “But you can call me Sunny.” 

Mark ignores the wink that’s sent his way. 

He stares at the outstretched hand, perplexed as to what to do. So he does the first thing that comes to his head. It may not be the right thing, but there’s nothing else he can think of. The young man named Donghyuck is looking at him expectantly anyway, Mark can’t take his time trying to think over things, so he simply stuffs his own hand into his jacket. 

“I don’t have a phone.” He tells him. 

Donghyuck’s face falls. Mark can tell, even when the other is hiding it beautifully behind a charming smile. “Are you lying because you don’t want to give me your phone number?” He drops his hand down and places it on his hip. “What a lame excuse.” 

Mark is astonished at his deduction. Why doesn’t he believe that Mark is without a phone? Is it so hard to process? Humans are definitely creatures of mystery. 

“Then,” Mark hurriedly pats his coat in search of his notepad. It’s for work, but he’s sure Donghyuck can write his phone number in it. Maybe that would make the human happy? 

Donghyuck looks at him, confused. “What am I supposed to do with that?” 

“Write your phone number down and I’ll call you later.” Mark assures him. He stands up straight, proud at his smart thinking. He can so play the part of a human. It doesn’t seem that tough now. 

“But you just said that you don’t have a phone.” Donghyuck points out. 

Mark nods. “I will get a phone so I can call you.” 

The other scoffs at him again. Does he not believe Mark? Why not? 

“You would buy a phone just to call me?” A strange expression crosses Donghyuck’s face. Mark can’t read it. It’s too new, something that he’s never seen another person use in front of him. “To go that far. Man, you really are weird.” 

“And I’ll buy the ring.” Mark suddenly says, surprising him. “It’s mine, though.” 

Donghyuck then drops his shoulders. “But I want it—“ 

“Wear it for me,” He tells him, watching that unusual expression on Donghyuck’s face once more. Mark does not know what it means, but he likes looking at it. “Until we meet again.” 

“Tsk.” Donghyuck crosses his arms, eyeing him from head to toe for the second time, as if he can’t believe the words coming out of Mark’s mouth. He bites his reddened, frosty lips, “How can you be so fucking smooth and awkward at the same time? It’s— it’s,” 

The word is left behind. Donghyuck doesn’t say anything anymore. 

He’s watching Mark carefully. And Mark can’t help but do the same. This is the first time he’s held a proper conversation with a human. And truthfully, it’s quite interesting, and amusing, and _fun_. 

Or maybe it’s simply because the individual in front of him is wonderfully unique. Not only in appearance, but in the way he talks and carries himself. Appearance-wise too, Mark can only describe him in one word:

Sunny.

# …

It’s a regular routine, one that he’s grown accustomed to over the years as a boss. It’s quite lonely, unadventurous, and it totally lacks in the dating department— but he wouldn’t trade his position for the world. 

It’s independence and leadership that he’s wanted his entire life. But it’s also been like that for a long, long time. At times he believes he signed the contract with his life, and that his view from the window is the one thing he’ll see for a while. 

The view proves wrong though one day. Dongyuck’s attention has now been diverted to a tall and rather handsome stranger who’s wonderfully weird and awkward and everything he finds endearing. 

But the thing is— that tall stranger didn’t even mention a name. Donghyuck simply signed the notepad and prayed that the individual would remember to contact him. Though chances are he won’t even remember Donghyuck. 

This makes him sigh. It also makes him dig into the bowl of chips for the umpteenth time. So far, twelve people have passed by since the early morning. Maybe by the 50th person, Donghyuck will allow himself to close up and go home. 

The loneliness isn’t a big part of his life, despite the constant idea of it always lingering. He’s fine, and it’s always been perfectly fine, since it’s not very hard to find people who will say yes to his every word— and he doesn’t like to brag, but it’s really common. 

But that’s probably why he’s grown so bored of the ordinary. He wants something challenging, something that will shake his world from the core, or something that will veer his soul’s destiny in another direction. 

He doesn’t necessarily romanticize on the idea of a soul mate, but he’s still allowed to believe that something like that could be possible for him. 

Why not? It’s not anything that frightens him. He’s all too ready. But the overall idea, the fact that another person has to be in the picture of this fantastical fantasy— that scares him just the tiniest bit. 

Because he’s picky, and because he’s attracted to stuttering strangers who look really good in dark coats and hats that are completely unnecessary but cute. 

He wonders if the man is a corporate heir, or a lawyer, or spy. Basically someone who can’t reveal their identity immediately. How romantic, he thinks, but how inconvenient it will be when it comes to having dates. 

And that is _if_ this handsome stranger reaches out to him. It’s been more than a few days, nearing a week since their first meeting. 

Donghyuck is wearing the jade ring on his index finger, and he sometimes holds it up to the light, admiring the way it glows green, almost mysteriously, ominously, as if telling him some long lost, tragic story from the past. 

It looks old, so it probably does have some ill-fated ties connected to it in some way. Either that, or Donghyuck is simply daydreaming like he always does. 

“Boss, there’s someone on the phone for you.” His newest and only employee chimes into his thinking. His voice is airy, light. Renjun is someone he can tolerate in this world of intolerable people. Donghyuck is lucky to have hired him, truly. 

He lets out a sigh he’s been keeping for a while. 

Today must be another normal day then, with nothing out of the ordinary, as usual. It’s to be expected of course. No handsome heir to a company will call him anytime soon— but then again, once he thinks about it, he doesn’t want a simple someone like that. 

Instead, he’d rather find happiness, from someone who will come to him even if they aren’t his soul mate, someone who’s real. 

But once he considers it, Donghyuck finds that it’s hardest to look for a person who will simply be themselves. That is probably why he’s been alone for such a long while. He’s just asking for too much. 

Because significant others don’t come in a package. They come in the form of nervous young men, awkward individuals who buy rings for strangers and give promises of a phone call. 

Donghyuck needs to only remind himself of that every once in a while.

# …

“His smile is always the thing that kills me.” 

His ‘friend’ is sitting at the far end of the long table. It’s night, and so the house is enveloped in a dramatic aura, topped with lit candles in every nook and cranny, as well as a blazing fireplace that never seems to be out. 

Mark likes the way the place is always filled with the idea that someone is _there_ , and that he’s not always alone. But with the comings and goings of new guests and whatnot, he’s not sure if loneliness is a problem when it comes to living in the house anymore. 

Jeno’s presence is similar to that. The man speaks with a deep voice that resonates. It’s a voice that demands attention, a voice that could be compared to that of an actor or performer. It fills the dining hall, and Mark wonders if Jeno knows the warmth that it exudes. 

But still, there are many things that Mark doesn’t find agreeable about his immortal housemate. Though that could be shared at a later hour when he has room and time to actually say it. It would take literal ages, honestly. 

“How am I supposed to be whenever he’s complaining too?” The god runs a worried hand through his dark locks of hair. There’s a stricken expression on his face, one that indicates he’s truly frustrated with his soul mate, and also a little confused as to what to do with the young man he so obviously cares about. “I give him everything but he still gives me that pout and it’s just—“ 

“Frustrating.” Mark finishes his sentence in a monotonous tone, playing with his food that he hasn’t even eaten. For some reason, he’s not hungry. But he can guess why. 

Jeno drops his complaining once he sees Mark is more down than usual. They can read one another easily. It’s kind of annoying. 

The god stays silent though, and so does Mark. 

Maybe it was a bad idea— the whole idea of a relationship. If Jeno is in a relationship already, then doesn’t that mean there’s enough romance in the air for the three of them? Mark can’t even tolerate the couple half the time, and now here he is thinking about some human he’s only spoken to on one occasion.

But it’s inevitable. Especially when his chest constricts at the thought of the other. Maybe it’s nerves? Maybe it’s because this human had the audacity to tease Mark when Mark is in fact a grim reaper, wielder of death, soul collector extraordinaire. 

Deep down inside though, that may have been the first thing that Mark found admirable about him. The young man is fearless. 

“I’m not hungry.” He says, after a while of reconsidering his jumble of ongoing thoughts. Jeno shouldn’t know anything about it yet, because it will amount to nothing. 

And so that is what Mark does. 

He keeps silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cliffhanger~!  
> *thank you so much to everyone who left wonderful comments on the last chapter <3 they really gave me confidence :)  
> *the timing is very nonlinear in these stories, because i'd like to keep specific moments for different chapters;;;  
> *i had previously written a long excerpt with jisung, but i ultimately took it out because i wanted to focus on markhyuck. though to be honest, i have thought of a related story for grim reaper jisung and human chenle too. idk if anyone would be interested in reading it as well? :')  
> *comments are dearly appreciated ^^


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